


Tale of a filthy  heathen

by Dusty_chopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Animal Death, Christianity, Historical Inaccuracy, Homophobic Behavior, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Torture, Use of north terminology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:04:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_chopper/pseuds/Dusty_chopper
Summary: Mako Ruthledge  son of Sigurd,  know as the boar among  the men of the  north  comes one day face to snoot with the young christan Jamison who happens to be willing  to trade a supposed treasure  for his life.(I am bad with summaries )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya ~  
> This is my frist English fic I upload .  
> It is not beta read... Because I was to shy to ask somebody.  
> Very slow updated, probably once a month but the chapters are a bit longer than average sooo at least there is that.  
> I used some north terminology in this fic so if you don't know a word there will probably be a note at the end about it but I tried to keep it down as much as possible so that you could read the meaning out of the context ^^  
> So anyway have fun with the fic

Out of small blue eyes he lazily watched the feast. The long wooden hall was weakly illuminated by a red glow emanating from the fireplace in the middle of it and some soapstone lamps placed where nobody could knock them over . Bearded men sat on long tables hollering along to an old song of which the most warriors had already forgotten the lyrics of. Disrespectful of the words which might have meant something long time ago. Young maids, mostly barely clothed with their rounded chest proud out in the open, rushed from one to an other, refilling their horns with stolen wine and local beer while getting themselves some attention too.

Laughter hung in the air like an all present humming building a somewhat inviting atmosphere if it wasn’t for the whining coming from the men and women hanging from the balconies above. Prisoners tied to the rails by their wrists like hunting trophies only difference they still were alive. Unfortunate souls who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time damned to end in suffer. They had been raided, their little camp striped from everything useful and then burned down to nothing more than ash. Who hadn’t been killed had been dragged along, either to become a slave or destined to be tortured to death solo for the amusement of the clan.

Erlikson Longshorn was know as the blood Jarl. An outlaw who somehow got around the punishment of his king and was now banded from the main settlement of the Skanes. He was a bloodthirsty bastard with no honor to spare and didn’t even shy away from his own people. Over the years several worriers who had gotten ejected by their own clans joined him and accepted his philosophy making his new clan grow in to a strong horde of feared thieves. Strong and checkless they raided travelers, small settlements and stud against everyone who tried to wipe them out for good.

But this time it had been a short call. They had to mourn twelve men and if it hadn’t been for him, Mako Rutledge son of Sigurd, the clan Longshorn could have finally meet its end. Not necessarily a bad thing in his opinion but it wouldn’t have served his own good and so he had stepped in and solved the situation. Only to get what he needed of course. And now he was the guest of the feast celebrating the victory, honored by getting the privileged to sit besides the jarls’s thorn .

Unamused by the display of the drunken men celebrating their survival Mako lifted his own horn to his mouth hidden behind the fur of the half of a boars head. A good portion of the neck of the beast had been kept intact so that nobody could see his features beneath the grotesque mask covering the lower half of his face.

If he was honest he hated those feasts. Just an unnecessary portrait of their victory which they hadn’t even accomplished themselves.

Once more his gaze wandered to the sufferers above their heads. The men had short but none less matted hair and the women wore some sort of hoods to hide their locks. Obviously Christians maybe missionaries trying to convert the wild men of the north, as if that would be possible but who ever they were they had been prepared for what would await them when they crossed the land of the Skane. Armed and well trained they had fought back but in the end to no avail.

Their warriors had been all killed, most by Mako's hands and the rest had no hope left. They even had stopped praying a while ago. As if any god had ever helped the faithful when it came to such situations. He snorted with bitter amusement at this thought.

“To night we have to honor our guest! “, Elrikson announced seemingly drunk tearing Mako from his thoughts.

“The Boar, the man with no aett! “,he stud and threw his arms in the air as if he just announced something marvelous, spilling wine in the progress. Of course they didn’t know Mako’s real name and that was just the way it should be. Nobody should know from which man’s past the beast they all feared was born.

“some might say he is a god, I say he is just a pig like any other men!” , failing to stand straight as he hollered those words, Elrikson leaned on to Mako’s board shoulders, a weight that the behemoth barely felt but was still uncomfortable with either way, while loud laughter filled the wooden hall.

Oh how often had he heard this joke?

 Ever since the stories about ‘the Boar’ , the man with a swain’s face over his mouth and nose to hide his features fighting alone and still able to take on whole hordes of men stared to spread and soon became legends and fantastic sagas rather than accounts of the truth, he supposed. People tended to exaggerate things that weren’t common. As if that would make it any more believable.

With an unamused grunt he wiped the annoying arm away from his shoulders sending Elrikson tumbling back but to Mako’s disappointment not falling.

“Not as much of a pig, as my dear husband is!” a sturdy woman shouted over the still loud laughter and stomped straight up to the throne, “Groping the maids again?” she barked only to drag Elrikson down by the beard for a kiss.

“A real kuensami you are ! ”she growled in a way lovingly against her husbands mouth.

“My sweet Agda, you know you’re the only one I will be humping tonight!”, Elrikson announced enthusiastic and swiped the woman off her feet.

Mako really hated those feasts.

 An other sip of the intoxicating red liquid that filled his horn found its way down his throat. It was a big black one with a golden rim easily holding one gallon maybe a little more and he needed every drop of it to numb his mind at least to an extend where he could tolerate this nonsens. If it wasn’t for the free cooked food and alcohol he wouldn’t even bother participating in this kind of celebrations he mused feeling the light burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat . He already got his share of the loot so why bother?

In silence he called himself stupid for always taking those invitations.

“You should learn a lesson from our guest”, Agda schooled her husband . ”He honors his wife even without her being at his side, at least I didn’t see him drooling over the maids arses like a goatish dog”, she pointed at a golden oath bangle on Makos's right biceps while being held by her husband and laughing lightheartedly. Mako just snorted not bothering with any other reaction. Should they think what they wanted.

“Just because he doesn’t go at it like an shagger it doesn’t mean that his bedding has to stay cold tonight! “Elrikson just snickered in response breaking the embrace of his wife with a last kiss. “I heard he could brake a man’s spine just with on hand, maybe a little demonstration would impress one of our young maids just enough to seek his company!”.

His man hollered, bloodlust and the need for the revenge for their twelve fallen warriors mixing in to the cheerful shouts. A choir of dark growls demanding something more than just the cooked flesh of the deer that had been prompted over the flames to roast. They wanted to see the boar’s strength and they wanted to see someone dead, even if their loose had been their own fault but who was Mako to denie their desire. He wasn’t one who particularly liked to kill innocent men but those poor souls were deemed to die one way or an other, he at least could make it quick and could maybe have some fun doing so.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy killing in general.

Mako stood, dwarfing anyone else.

 Just for a short moment that felt like a infinity everyone seemed to take a deep breath and hold it letting a deep strained silence fell over the barely lit hall. Fear that they could have worn out the patience of the beast of a man creeped up on some faces as he rose his axe that had to this point leaned together with his sword and shield at his side on the stool he had been sitting on. An intimidating gesture when done by someone like him and he was well aware of it, letting him smirk beneath his mask. It could have meant war it could have meant peace all depending on what he did next. Just for an other moment he let the uncertainty linger between the men but then he let out a deep growling laugh followed by the whole hall tuning in and they knew he was good and up for it.

He enjoyed the fear that his sheer appearance alone brought up in most men. It gave him power and more important people left him alone.

Most of the time at least.

With his agreement being legit some of the worriers climbed to the balconies and freed one of the prisoners who just dropped down like a rotten apple, landing ruggedly on one of the tables with a loud thumb. The men left sitting on the tables were stomping on the ground encouraging the giant to show off his strength And feed their desire for death. Their eyes where filled with thirst for that extra grain of gratitude, hungry for cruelty and the curiosity what this man could really do as if they hadn’t already witnessed him in fight.

Instead of trying to make a bail like most would have done the prisoner just coiled in on himself giving not even a whimper. Fear or pain whatever it was, maybe both seemingly made the man make himself as small as possible and Mako just had to admire how this man was able to cower into not more than a sorry lump of clothing. Not that it would help him in any way.

“Come on get him to his feet!”, most shouted . But before anyone else could drag him somewhere the prisoner unfolded from his position like a leave in spring . A Coward but a smart one, Mako thought curling his lips into an ugly snarl. He was tall, taller than even most men in the hall, but wiry, looking like a underfeed critter of some sorts with sharp features. Blond tousled hair crowned his head stained with blood and dirt, short and greasy exposing a receding hairline and high temples making his face even longer and sharper. He clutched something to his chest, long fingers wrapping around each other with such a strength that his knuckles turned white and fingernails dug into pale skin drawing blood. He wore a cowl, like a monk, Mako recognized and was remembered of times he better wanted to forget.

Those christians where like vermin spreading everywhere leaving no place uninfected.

Eyes the color of amber sought out his hulking form like pray eying the predator cornering it. There was fear in those wide eyes but also a hint of bewildered determination only found by men who had already accepted their death but were not willing to give up just yet. The blond challenged him.

He was just an other fool then.

The men around the captive started to push and punch him into Mako’s direction and he stared to stumbled forward, trying to keep his balance like a foal making it’s first steps. He had a bad limp, his ankles probably sprained by the fight over the raided camp but he somehow managed to get in front of Mako mostly upright. The men immediately retrieved and gave Mako space as he seized the throat of the blond with his hand. Mako felt the adam’s apple of the other bob beneath his palm as he traced the long and thin neck of the man. Sweat gathered over the thick brows of the captive but he didn’t filch away .

Not as much of a Coward as he first thought apparently.

The blond knew what was going to happen and still refused to give up. Mako smiled beneath his mask , a grim one making his eyes go even smaller letting them appear as if they were all black.

With a low chuckle Mako brought the snoot of his mask to the ear of the blond . Why not play with his pray a little he just felt in the right mood for it. And the man seemed just right to have some fun with.

“Got something to say! “, he rumbeld quiet and ominous feeling the shiver his voice send through the scrawny frame as the other stiffed.

But to his surprise and small delight the man found the courage to whisper an answer. Shaky but still with a hint of hope in the horas and high-pitched voice.

“My Lord,… mate,… ya seem like a reasonable bloke”, Mako nudged his check with the snoot to show he was listening. „If ya let me get away with me life I will give ya more silver than ya could carry, I.. I hide it before yer people could get it, ya can ‘ave it… .an’, an' I will pray for yer soul ”, he spoke under his breath, voice uneven pregnant with just that little bit of desperation.

Mako just snorted with amusement scarping the cheek of the man with one broken tusk of the boars snoot and pressing down on the blond’s windpipe not to strangle him but to show that he didn’t need what the man had to offer. This man had nerves to try and bride someone like him.

A hint of panic and something else maybe anger but it had a mischievous undertone, Mako couldn’t pinpoint now laced the choked words the blond spurted out next, loud enough for everyone to hear as if anyone surrounding him would be willing to help “M’ Jamison Fawkes the fourth, son of the King…James Fawkes Saxon King of Wales … kill… god damn it… killin’ me will provoke a war… an’... All roman forces will make ya pay for what…what ya did.. In the name of god yer pagan arses will be send ta ‘ell and erased from the surface of this ‘oly earth!”. Laughter was the only answer he got. A deserving one at that.

To Mako’s surprise he felt a grin spread onto the cheeks of the man which pressed against the still near tusk as the muscles beneath the dirty skin moved and as the man’s hands shot up he suspected them to try and pry the grip around his throat open, but something cold and solid was pressed against the back of his hand and a band crammed between his palm and the skin of the blond instead.

Just after a moment of confusion Mako caught on.

This man was sly and at the same time a fool.

In a swift move he caught both hands of the man in the other of his and pulled him of the ground drawing a startled yelp from the blonds throat. The men surrounding them were still distracted with laughing over the ridiculous promise the blond had made, giving Mako the time to inspect what ever the blond, apparently called Jamison had pressed against his hand that had now left said man’s throat.

A small cross hung from his now free hand, silver and with a fairly big red gem embedded in the middle of it. Delicate ornaments were engraved into the metal, the work of someone in the south someone who hadn’t to fear the harsh winters or rival clans someone who got paid for the time he put into the details not the functionality of the object. He felt the gaze of the blond lingering on his features as he examined the jewelry, searching for any kind of reaction even so his own face was distorted with pain. In this moment Mako's greed took over the decision and he just shot the blond a short look, nodding slightly letting the silver disappear under his jerkin. Maybe, just maybe he could get something extra out of this. Simple Monks never wore such delicate attires and where this came from maybe more was to be found.

However even if he could just buy that man free as a slave he was not willed to spend anything more than words just in hope for a treasure that may or may not exist.

“That’s just a branch. Not worth the effort! “, and again the man landed ruggedly on the ground knocking the breath out of the blond’s lungs.

“we should burn him then! “, Erikson proposed holding himself up on an other man to not loos his balance.

“Nah.. M’ not… “, the blond tried to defend himself determined to get to his feet again but was cut of by a meaty palm landing on his face pushing him back to the ground.

The man just seemed to have a death wish. And thinking about it he could still betray him.

“too small to make it worth! “, Mako said despite himself. Thinking just for a moment longer .

Puzzled the men around him looked at his frame, some muttering about trying to kill the boar instead but before anyone could say something Mako started to laugh. The blond would have to tolerate some pain, but if he was just as sly as he thought the man was, this could work.

“Get my horse I bet the son of a King would like to have a proper ride. His royalty had probably never seen one from behind”, he hollered yanking the blond up in the air again this time by his hair.

At the sudden the men were on his page again hollering and laughing, making fun of the blond struggling to get a good grip at Mako’s arm to pull him further up .

“Drag… . Dragged along by a ‘orse… ehm… ta….That sounds lioke somethin’ I could actually loike, ehm mind doin’ somethin’ less, ya know funny with me? Loike drowin’ me in tha waterin’ ‘ole? Ya know outside tha hall.. Or somethin'“ , Jamison struggled glazing up at Mako with wide eyes utter shock and panic now embed in his features.

A booming laugh shock Mako’s whole body as he shot the blond a wicked grin he once more couldn’t see “wanna be watched while dying? “

“Ya bloody bastard! “,Jamison muttered seemingly understanding and making peace with his faith and at the same time braking out in cold sweat. Mako just hoped this fool made it worth as he pulled the wrists of the man from his arm again only to let them be bound together by an other man who had already gotten a rope. A pained hiss came from the blond as his sore wrists were once again violated with the rough texture of the rope.

The distinct clip clopping of hooves announced the arrival of the horse before it was even guided through the large doors of the hall. Even nearly calming despite the situation. But as the animal came into plain view the last bit of color vanished from Jamison’s features letting his skin appear like it was made of dirty snow.

The great stallion, like his owner, dwarfed the man who was leading it. Let him look like a child even though he was one who had muscle like a bear. Maroon fur glistened in the sparse light only disturbed by white dots covering the visible back, the animal was fully bitten, like freckles. Its forelock and tail blond and long nearly touching the ground swaying mesmerizing with the movement and taking away the focus from the four giant hooves covered by silky white feathering that made it appear as if this giant horse would hover over the ground rather than walk.

The crowd parted for the animal and the one holding its rim. Jamison on his part struggled to back away from the approaching horse pressing himself against Mako’s legs with desperation. If the man was acting he sure did a good job. Mako snorted seeing the fear of the blond and gave him a little kick sending him face forward to the ground right in front of the stallion.

A little kick at his conditions was after all still a mighty one for most.

Curious the stallion snuffled through the blond tufts of the man on the ground. And as the animal lifted a hove and began to paw at the ground right beside the man’s head the blond got stiff and began to whimper and sob in fear.

No not acting apparently.

“looks like the heir of the King of Wales is afraid of a little horse! “, Erikson jeered giving the blond a kick himself.

“A true regiregi ! Crying like a mayla “,Mako agreed with a nod yanking the blond to his feet again by the rope. The man was trembling and sweat already stained his clothing, he had trouble keeping upright and Mako had to support him by grabbing the back of his cowl.

“shshshshshshsh just greet your new little vinr“,Mako rumbled forcing Jamison to outstretch his hands so the stallion could snuffle at them. The blond flinched and tried to retrieve them but Mako didn’t let him. It was amusing to see someone who just birded him, an all over towering warrior who hide his face behind an other one, one of an animal that could just be as cruel and brutal as he was, pissing himself because of a horse, well a big one , but still it was just a horse , an animal which was it self fairly harmless in comparison.

With his colossal palm he padded the neck of the animal as he leaned over Jamison forcing the man to get closer to the head of the stallion. The thin frame of the blond pressed against his gut with a surprising strength drawing a warning growl from his lungs. If this fool would stop acting like one this would be easier for him.

“They will just get along nicely! “, Elrikson sneered behind them, already tired of Mako’s torturing charade,: „Time to tie the bond! “

The stallion was turned around and the loos end of the rope tied to the wooden end of the saddle.

The man who did that had to stand on a stool to make it possible.

“I now proudly announce you horse and wife! “, Elrikson hollered and his men cheered as Mako toke the rim in his own hands. He lead the animal back to the door through the crowd. Can’t have the idiot be dragged over the fire pit. Without glazing back he knew that the blond was pelted with bones and other left overs as he stumbled after the stallion as far behind as the rope allowed. He smirked hopefully this man was just as sharp as he thought him to be.

He stripped the rim over the horse's head binding them together just behind the withers.

The animal calmly lowered its head and snorted as Mako once more padded its side. With slow and heavy steps he walked back behind the horse facing the blond again. The long face was a mix of hope and distress , brows knitted together in an uncertain frown.

“Ya not ganna ride tha… “, he swallowed but didn’t finish the sentence, not that Mako didn’t know what he was about to ask.

“Nah, he’s a big boy, knows how to run on his own”, he jeered snickering.

“maybe if you pray to Wotan, he might stop! “, he winked at the man before stepping behind him laying a big hand on small shoulder weighing them down.

A dark choir of voices cheered the horse on and Mako felt the scrawny man shiver beneath his grip.

Maybe it would have done better if he just had told him what he had meant but this was certainly more fun.

“May god help me”, Jamison whispered.

He won’t , Mako thought.

“Rada! “, Mako boomed giving the blond a firm push sending him to the ground before the rope could do the job as the horse jumped into running. The man behind him were laughing and cheering looking after the horse disappearing into the dark slowly drowning out the screaming that came from the vague direction the horse had turned to.

Soon enough everyone resumed to their meals and drinks and Mako followed suit gulping down the content of his horn.

The boy should figure it out in time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words of the day :
> 
> aett - Heritage  
> kuensami - skirt chaser  
> regi - coward  
> mayla - little girl  
> vinr - friend  
> Rada - a simple word to urge somebody or something into moving 
> 
> I hope you liked it so far, if you have any questions just feel free to ask <3  
> Comments are very much appreciated


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo and here is the next chap^^  
> I have the awkward feeling this could allready count as kinda torture porn but what ever xD  
> Still in need for a beta and still to shy to ask anyone so prepare for bad gramma and spelling I will probably read over both chapters again and again to correct any error I find till I upload the next chap.

It didn’t hurt

At least at first.

Well, it didn’t hurt more than hanging somewhere by the wrist for no time to end.

His arms and shoulders were already soren and it only made things a little bit worse. Luckily the push the behemoth had given him had prevented his shoulders from dislocating (at least immediately) what didn’t mean that it was anywhere near comfortable. And he used his remaining breath to curse the fat bastard with every obscenity he could think of as loud as his lungs allowed.

What wasn’t exactly easy considering the welts in the ground knocking the wind out of him every few seconds. He tried to shift, get to his back to maybe make breathing easier and in hope that it would minimize the damage.

Dirt flew into his eyes and he was lucky that tears had been already welling from the start or it might have been a major annoyance instead of just a small one added to the already existing ones. He twisted helplessly around unable to do anything other than squirm like worthless vermin. A feeling of helplessness all too present in his gut. Finally he managed to get onto his side. Something he thought might be helpful.

But instead he was proved wrong as a painful sting pierced through his already miserable being.

That’s it, that was how he would die.

Suddenly getting his neck snapped didn’t sound so unpleasant anymore.

This did hurt a lot.

A whole bloody lot.

He started trashing around as the pain seemed to bore deeper into his flesh. The panic he felt only making it worse. Miraculously he ended up on his stomach again. Feeling how the fabric of his clothing slowly was torn apart revealing his vulnerable skin which in turn was pealed away by the rough dirt. Tears were now streaming down his face that burned his eyes and as he got a blurry look down he saw a twig protruding from his flank sending waves of hot pain through his body with every bump.

That was not how he had imagined it to work out.

Sure he had calculated that the way he got out of it all would be fairly uncomfortable and would include a fair amount of pain and a high chance of death but that was just too much. The burning agony was spreading further through his body and he could feel how even more skin was pulled away exposing the raw flesh beneath it to be slowly sanded away as well. At this point his whole abdomen and his thighs must have been already striped from skin, at least it felt like that and the torture didn’t seem to be over soon.

“Oh god, let it end! “,too strained to scream anymore it came out as a horas cry.

He had not given away the symbol of his Lord only to be treated like that! This was probably the punishment for doing exactly that but he had seen no other option. It was a sin to just give away a holy object to an filthy heathen like that bastard offspring of a pagan cunt. And the price he now had to pay was probably not even high enough.

Father Lenard had warned him.

He had said “Don’t even try to plead with the pagan barbarians, they don’t know any moral, they won’t show any mercy like our god would, they don’t know such things as humanity , because they themselves have non!” and now Jamison knew he had been right.

Not that this made his situation in any way better. He already knew that he had been on the verge of falling in despair for years to come due to his nature but surely now he had crossed that line and god had left him once and for all. God had tested him and he had failed in the most devastating way possible.

If he just would have been a better Christian.

If he just would have remembered the prayers and oaths.

If he wouldn’t have been himself.

This might not just have happened to him.

But well, now was not the time to try and be something he wasn’t. Especially since the misery he was in seemed to slowly seep into every crack of his being.

It just hurt like hell, maybe that was hell. He surly didn’t know anymore.

Maybe that bastard had snapped his necke and this was his personal limbus in which he suffered the consequences of his life which had been such a sinful one.

Slowly the agony took away his thoughts while the horse in front of him was still running, still dragging him over the ground, still torturing him like the indomitable beast it was.

He always knew horses were the devil’s henchmen.

And now that god had left him…

He wanted to fall unconscious so bad, wanted to blend out the burning sting but every new bump shot burning lava through his veins. Keeping him awake but his thoughts distracted.

To hell with him if he wasn’t already there.

The pagan cunt had told him to call out to his mockery of god, to the devil in disguise blinding those cruel bustards with his evil schemes.

And so he did.

“Wotan, ya bloody heathen stop …”, he couldn’t get further because his face hit the ground as the rope got lax due to the beast stopping dead in its tracks.

For just a moment he thought that he might have died then and there but just a second later the pain made itself known again. Bitter relieve washed over him but he didn’t dare to move in fear his luck could have been just temporary.

His whole body was throbbing with that awful sensation making it impossible to determine if he was still in one piece. But at least there wasn’t anything adding to it anymore.

“Pray to Wotan and he might stop” or something like that the heathen had said and despite all odds it had worked.

A desperate and somewhat maniac laugh was tearing at his throat as the realization why the beast had stopped hit him.

“Ya’r called Wotan, M’ I right? “, he sneered. And the animal snorted and shock its head making the rings on it’s rim rattle as if it just wanted to mock him with the conformation.

“The bloody horse is called Wotan!”, the laugh turned into a whine and he felt more tears welling in the corners of his eyes making them burn even more. He couldn’t move his body without it hurting, his shoulders felt like they had been torn off even if they were clearly still there and his wrist and hands were numb. Even his fingers felt like they were to heavy to move and as he tried to wiggle them nothing happened but that he regretted even trying.

Hooves shuffled over the ground and he feared the beast could start running again. Instead the rope just lazily slithered over the dirt and the noise came closer. Panic flooded his mind once more making him blind and his breath come short. He felt the beast exhale onto his shivering form before it’s hooves even could get into his field of view and automatically he tried to shuffle away despite everything. However the agony of his newly provoked wounds stopped him from doing so and tore a genuine cry out of him.

“Get away from me, demon! “, he tried to scream but only got out a pathetic whimper.

His body was tens adding to his hellish pain. Fear mixing in with the desperation of his slowly approaching demise forcing more tears down his cheeks.

There was no way he would survive this.

Not even the slightest hope was left for him to cling to.

The soft snot of the animal nudged him carefully at his shoulder and he started to sob uncontrollably.

“don’t eat me! “, he whimpered and got a soft neighing as response.

An other nudge.

Well if the beast did something else to him he at least didn’t felt it anymore. The fear and the pain finally took their toll on him and he fell into the deep black pit of unconsciousness welcoming him like a mother her long lost child.

But before he even could felt at home a sharp sting dragged him out of the warm embrace of darkness again.

The first thing he saw was a boar’s snoot.

Blurry and unfocused but it was clearly an animals head that hovered above him.

The second thing he felt was something warm in his back and a meaty hand pressing into his side.

“Thought you would figure it out faster! “, the dark rumble came from the animal’s snoot. Deep and in a way mockingly but soothing. And only now he recognized that it wasn’t an animal at all but the man who had brought him into this situation.

“blood pagan cunt, son of a heathen bitch, could have just, don’t know told me straight away? Or even better done something else than that, like dragging me out for a drowning? “, he tried to spat out with anger but only managed a weak groan instead. The pagan only grumbled a little and stud. Blood was on both of his hands and the twig which had stuck in Jamison's side in one of them.

Only now Jamison realized that is wrists were untied and he was laid onto his side, prompted against something warm and breathing. Fur was tickling the back of his neck, more than just soft to his skin. It took him a full four seconds to realize that there was only one possible owner of this soft and breathing body. His aching limbs began to tremble again.

“Is.. Is that.. That beast behind me? “, he squealed and tried to get to his feet but failed. In his panic he tried to ignore the protest of his joints, franticly wiggling around every body part that was willing to listen to him. But his shoulders were dislocated and every attempt of gaining balance was deemed to be one of no avail.

A booming laugh came from behind him as he fell face first into the dirt. He was trembling and sweating but at the same time pain and fear keeping him from trying to move once more. At least he wasn’t so close to the horse anymore.

The treating of fabric out of the general direction of the behemoth was loud in his ears and as soon as heavy steps approached him, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy about it or just wish for a quick death already. Meaty hands heaved him into a standing position with unexpected finesse. As soon as he stud, supported by the superior strength of the other man, his view was occupied by black fur and leather and he tried to gaze up further to get a glimpse on the other’s uncovered eyes hoping to see something that could help determine the intentions of the giant. But his neck had gone stiff making it impossible to take in more from what might be above.

“I paid for me life not for being tortured! “, he weekly whispered.

“You bargained for it and bribed me to spare it with a lousy piece of jewelry “, the dark voice answered and he felt the rumble rattle through his arching bones. A sensation the sinful part of him might have enjoyed in any other circumstances.

“That was jus' a prove ta show ya I could give ya more !” he complained without having a real weight to his voice. He felt pathetic and used, hell we probably was at least pathetic.

“You better do!” the boar snorted and those meaty hands left his side only to grab both of his arms. With the support now gone his legs gave up on Jamison and he just was hanging between the boars strong arms view occupied by the thin leather belt tied around the massive waist with a knot. He hadn’t even the strength to be surprised at this if he was honest with himself.

For a long moment he just eyed the belt buckle in front of his face waiting for the agony to subside so that his brain could start working again. And as it just did exactly that his lips began to quiver.

 “What do ya think ya doing?”, fear once more impregnated his voice as he shrieked. This man pretty much could tear him in half as far as he knew. And those other thoughts he had, regarding his position... He didn’t even dare to let his mind wander in this dark direction. There just were all this stories the others had always told, all those stories about unholy acts and the unspeakable sins those heathens committed that just now began to flood his mind. He just pressed his lips as tight as possible together.

“Just keep still! “, the dark voice came from above sending shivers and a newly wave of cold sweat down his spin.

In his mind he prepared for anything to come but what followed hadn’t been one of those options.

With a sudden jerk his arms were pulled away from his body and with a loud crunch, a genuine cry of surprise from his side and a short flaming pain adding to the consistent throbbing, his shoulders popped into place again. Tears once more welled in his eyes and he was dropped into the dirt like a wet jut bag barely keeping himself upright.

“Roll them!”, the boar ordered him, voice calm but still leaving no place for an argument.

“By the blood of Christ”, Jamison muttered under his breath as he did as told. He was alive and he was more than just painfully aware of it, at least he could us his arms again.

“Ya piss drinking drongo! “,he tried weakly to insult the boar but his temper died down half way through. The will to stand on his own was strong, as was the will to fend for himself and make a bail away from this bastard and his beast but as he tried, he just slumped forward against the other men’s legs were he, too weak to do anything else remained. At least it wasn’t the horse holding him up anymore! Thinking about it, the giant himself was probably just as bad. He felt the warmth of his own blood slowly damping his torn cloth as it began oozing from the newly torn open wounds while the cold air send chills through his bones and over raw flesh.

“Stand!”, the rumbling voice above him demanded but he just shock his head knowing very well that he wouldn’t be able to, even if he wanted.

“is n’ possible, ya yaldson ”, he weakly groaned. His whole body felt like he had been handled by a butcher.

“would be better of dead!”, he added weakly while shifting a bit to get more comfortable.

“miklimunnr“, the boar mumbled annoyed and shifted to sit on the ground in front of him letting him lean against his shoulder. Big hands began roaming his frame and started to peel away the ruined fabric of his cowl from his wounds. The fibers clung to the dried blood and crusted edges making Jamison hiss and curse with every pull.

After what felt like a eternity of this awful ripping sensation the behemoth suddenly grabbed the neck of his cowl and started to rip the cloth apart. Something Jamison definitely was not prepared for and that just made his thoughts wander to those dark places again.

“What in God’s name! “, he yelped bringing his weak hands to the colossal wrists without being able to grab them properly or not to speak of pulling them away.

“Just keep still!”, he was reminded again before the cowl was completely torn off his body leaving him in his simple loin bounds and calf packing. All the sudden he was painfully aware that he was at the mercy of that heathen and it not only frightened him but also gave him a unsettling thrill that he was only to happy to store away in the part of his being that really belonged into hell. Despite the protest of his sore limbs he quickly tried to cover his exposed chest what only provoked an amused snort.

regardless of his constant state of pain, anger began pooling in his gut. What in God’s name gave that heathen the right to treat him that way?

“If ya think about touching me… “, he spat out but couldn’t get further because the snorting turned into a booming laugh, easily drowning out his voice

“You queue up like a maiden! “,his hands were swatted away from his chest and a rough thumb traced the lines of the lean muscles making him shiver and tens. A fearful whine was drawn out his throat as the finger got close to his flat nipple and in utter shock and panic he just stared at that colossal hand invading his privacy. But then the thumb pressed down on a dark bruise right beside it turning the whine to a pained one.

“When I shall tend to your wounds, stop acting like I would ravish you!”, the boar growled sending a shameful redness over Jamison’s pale skin. “can’t never trust a useless barbarian loike ya! “, he weakly pressed out through gritted teeth in defense but kept from trembling the best he could cursing his thoughts quietly.

“Ya just want my silver so why do ya bother anyways?”,he asked sheepishly after a few moments trying to convey bold aggression with his voice.

“Half dead men don’t remember the place where they hide their riches! “, came the rumbeld answer making him shiver just a little bit. The hands left his frame once more and a strong sharp smell got in to his nostrils, stinging in his eyes as well , before he could look at the source, his wounds began to burn as if one would attempt to burn them out with fire. A wail was everything he could muster and a meaty palm padded his back.

“Blood shitting Christ! “, he chocked out already on the verge of passing out again.

This felt even worse as getting the wounds in the first place.

“stings but helps“, the giant hummed in a way mockingly and gave him a short break to catch his breath before applying more of that stinking substance to the rest of his raw flesh. The burn knocked the air out his lungs and he squeezed his eyes shut tears already wetting his cheeks once more . One hand of the other man was rubbing circles into his back as he arched with pain droll and snoot mixing to the mess of fluids he couldn’t contain any longer.

Pathetic was the only word he could think of as he quietly sob through the torture

Bindings out of torn cloth were wrapped around his torso and thighs and agonizingly slow the awful burning faded in an distance ache. He was shacking, face feeling sticky and disgusting but he recovered his breath and soon was heaved to his own feet again shacking knees barely holding him up right. This was just humiliating.

He tried to say something but only a pathetic whimper left his dry lips and then the will to further insult the man before him was completely gone.

There was a mild feeling of gratefulness that he was still alive but it was soured by so many things that he didn’t even want to think about it. There was just this world of unknown agony that clouded his mind , leading his thoughts to a place where they rather asked about the rightness of his believes than just planning the next steps.

He didn’t even notice that the man had left his side and was shuffling though a jute bag till something soft hit his face.

“Cover yourself!”, came an amused snort from the larger man and slowly his consciousness proceeded what was happening. To his feet was a bundle of green and brown clothing and he struggled to pick it up. It was held together with a leather belt not unlike the one the Boar wore though the lining at its end was just a steel one with not as much ornaments as the bronze one the other had. The clothing was equally as simple, a long sleeve tunic with bindings on the neck and brown pants out of rough fabric.

Agonizingly slow Jamison started dressing himself. Even though both items were a loos fit, he still had problems to squirm into them correctly. He didn’t even bother to wrap his calf bindings over the freely hanging pant legs. The fabric was rough to his skin but left plenty of air between it and his form. Even when he tried to tighten the binding of the rim the pants hung loosely around his hips, he just couldn’t muster the strength to even bind them tight enough he guessed. Luckily the belt thrown over the tunic would hold the fabric up around his bones.

He took the sleeve of his new clothes an swiped the drool of his mouth’s corner. “what are ya intending on doing with me?“, he asked knees weak and with a raspy voice not even bothering to sound somewhat other than weak.

“Guide me to the treasure and we will go separate ways, lie to me and I still kill you! “, the behemoth shrugged while fastening the saddle on his horse. Panic rose again in his chest, something he would rather not feel again so soon. He knew he had promised more silver than the behemoth could carry but in fact he only had hidden a lousy chest full and he doubted that the man would have any trouble with lifting it only using his pinky.

“what’s considered lying then ? “, he asked and was afraid the air couldn’t carry his words as the behemoth didn’t react. Unable to move he watched the Giant working around his horse silently awaiting his death sentence.

Finally after what felt like for ever the giant looked at him again eyes cold as the early winter’s winds and just equally piercing

“know that it won’t be that much, but there better be something worth my time!”, he growled giving the saddle one last tug .

Somehow relieved Jamison watched how this massive mouton of a man lifted himself of the ground and onto the horse’s back. This shouldn’t be possible, he mused feeling a kind of morbid fascination creeping up into his mind as he watch the animal carry the weight without even flinching. The giant must have seen him staring because in the next moment those cold eyes cut right through his thoughts again with a glare that might alone have been able to kill a man.

For just a second all he could see were those eyes as his heart skipped a beat (or several at the matter) sinking further down where it doesn’t belong. He didn’t notice the horse and it’s rider closing in and in the next he was lifted of the ground and heaved in front of the Boar. Surprised but too weak to struggle he just settled were he had been placed at least having someone behind him, even if it was that bastard pagan on the horse making it less frightening.

“Tell me where to go!”, came a annoyed and in a way angry bark from behind.

“ ‘is near the… “, Jamison swallowed hard only to continue with a strained whisper, “ near the burned down camp”. In slice he began to pray as he felt the movement of the horse beneath and the breathing of the man behind him, he may not have remembered every prayer he had been once taught but he surly did the most important ones. And he would recite the hell out of them if it was necessary to survive this 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word of the day :
> 
> miklimunnr - loud mouth ment as an insult
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to add kudos, comments or just add it to your never read again list^^


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